Unlooked For
by riotboi
Summary: Post-war and post apprenticeship together Severus and Hermione are pursuing their own academic interests outside of the UK. An unexpected edict from the Ministry, however, will shake up their whole lives, including their new found friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**Unlooked For: Chapter One**

**Disclaimer: I own nothin'.**

**Notes: Ok, so I have two other HP fics going at the moment, which I've only found the time to update sporadically, much to my chagrin. But I've always found a kind of guilty pleasure in marriage law fics, especially with Hermione/Severus, so I thought I'd take a stab at it. This is set post-war, though Severus survives. Back story will ****be introduced slowly throughout, but all you really need to know is that after the war Severus took Hermione as an apprentice, which is when they began to be on friendlier terms. Hermione is an independent researcher of great reputation now all on her lonesome, but Severus has been permanently added into her circle of close friends. **

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><p>Hermione gulped down a few mouthfuls of hotel air, it smelled freshly vacuumed and left a slightly antiseptic taste on her tongue. Reaching down, she smoothed her smart dress slacks and tried to calm her nerves. Never particularly shy of discussing her opinions with friends, classrooms of students, or even strangers in pubs whose only mistake was buying her a drink and asking what she did for a living, Hermione had been astounded to find that major public speaking scared the living Hell out of her.<p>

The fear had lain dormant and undiscovered for the first twenty years of her life until the first conference she had been invited to speak at, a huge Arithmancy conference in Bologne. Looking up from her paper after her brief introduction the hundreds of beady critical eyes and sea of black witches' robes had made her mouth go dry and the ground spin. Hermione had survived that first experience by gulping down several glasses of water throughout her presentation and the questions section but she was the sort of witch who only needed one lesson to learn something. From then on she carried a slight calming draught with her to every public speaking event.

A cool smooth sensation spread over her limbs and she knew the draught was getting to work. She worried that soon she would have to tackle the problem and not the symptoms, there was only so long before she developed a resistance to the drug, and Merlin knew she had enough speaking engagements that she used it more than was technically prescribed. Being a member of the Golden Trio, a highly regarded young intellectual, and a famous expat she ended up in these situations more often than she didn't.

"Our next speaker is presenting on something of a novelty for us here," the elderly gentleman at the podium began and Hermione knew her cue was coming. A flash of annoyance managed to wiggle its way past her anxiety at the word "novelty", what did they think she was, some kind of specialty candy?

The older man continued, not noticing the brief scowl that flitted over his next presenter's face, "I believe her exemplary work on the Wolfsbain Potion last year with Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts should be well known to all of you and this year she will present on the effects of Magical potions on Muggles, Ms. Hermione Granger!"

Hermione stood automatically and ascended the couple of steps to the podium, casting only one glance out into the audience. Sure enough, not even bothering to get seated, Severus Snape was leaning idly against the door at the far end of the large hall. He always showed up to hear her speak when he was in town, one of the few but treasured ways she showed Hermione that he respected her, her work, and was proud to have sponsored her apprenticeship. Seeing him gave Hermione a small burst of confidence and she smiled ever so slightly. When she had finally broken through Snape's frigid exterior, and that had taken a long freaking time, she had landed herself a true friend.

"Hello everyone," she began, shuffling through her stack of papers. "Some of you, especially those who have never lived outside of the wizarding community maybe unaware but Muggle and Magical bodies have distinct differences in the way they react to Magic.

What I will be discussing this afternoon concerns primarily their reaction to Magical potions, but I have findings which indicate that these difference would extend throughout the whole of magical usage."

A few older wizards and witches rolled their eyes and a few turned to whisper to their companions, no doubt wondering what in Merlin's name they needed to know about Muggles for.

"The difference is not a physical one nor do I think it indicative of any sort of superiority of one or the other," Hermione felt the need to preface. "The difference lies in that the natural magic present in magic user's bodies is an essential ingredient in what makes potions work the way we believe they do. We are used to believing that the magic of potions lies in their magical ingredients, and no doubt that is part of it, but I propose that my findings prove that the final component in any potion is the magic residing in the body of the drinker."

There were seriously annoyed murmurs spreading through the hall, Hermione was not surprised, this would force a fundamental shift in thinking about potions, not to mention arithmancy and almost every other subject. It was not unexpected that people, especially academics seriously entrenched in their studies would be annoyed by such a dramatic paradigm shift. Once again she glanced up towards Severus and though he was very far away she swore she could his trademark amused smirk egging her on.

"For example, if I may," she continued, "all of the ingredients in the Draught of Living Death are poisons, deadly in their own right and extremely effective together. These ingredients have been used throughout Muggle history to commit murder and mayhem. But once combined properly and ingested by a magic user the result is not death, as it would most certainly be for a Muggle, but deep comatose sleep."

By the time she was on her fourth example the whispers had died down and all that was left was a mixture of bafflement, annoyance, and skepticism. But to Hermione the whole thing made perfect sense. Each Muggle culture had it's own unique history of herbal remedies, many of which closely resembled many potions still used and manufactured today but their effects and certain key ingredients were always different. And she had at the beginning of her speculation on the subject, before any controlled experiments, secretly slipped mostly harmless potions into her Muggle friends' and parents' drinks occasionally, just to see what would happen. Each case resulted in something not entirely prescribed by the potion, but in holding with the ingredients' uses in Muggle herbalism. It had had her completely fascinated for the last year. (And, truth be told, indulged her deeply buried penchant for mischief which she had not been able to exercise since her years at Hogwarts!)

Finally, and it seemed like she had been talking for eons, she was able to clamber down from the podium and she walked a little unsteadily back to where Severus was waiting for her by the door.

"Get you a drink?" He asked quietly again with the sly smirk.

"Oh would you? I could use something strong," Hermione sighed.

He simply nodded and walked towards the hotel bar. The conference was being held in an upscale Muggle hotel in Manhattan, a quick taxi drive from where Hermione now called home. American wizards and witches were much more incorporated in and comfortable with Muggle life and often held conferences and meetings in Muggle occupied places relying mostly on the fact that all academic ramblings sounded like mumbo-jumbo whether they were magical or Muggle and no one wished to pay too much attention either way. Especially if everyone showed up in Muggle clothes, although the occasional eccentric would refuse to leave their robes behind for a day. Not that that was noticed much in New York anyway. But it did give Hermione the chance to see Severus in Muggle clothes, which was always a treat. The first time she had seen him in a button-down and tie she had nearly spit up her coffee, it looked good but terribly out of place on him.

"Two whiskeys, straight up," Severus caught the single bartender's attention quickly and set about getting Hermione something to calm her nerves.

"Miss, may I see your I.D.?" The bartender asked. Hermione pulled out her fake Muggle I.D., he scanned it perfunctorily and then, blessed gods, a glass of whiskey was sat within her reach.

"Well, I'd say that went fairly well," Severus said with his usual snark.

"You'd think from the looks of their face that my presentation was actually a particularly large gallstone they had to pass," Hermione said morosely into her whiskey.

"I see your talent for delightful description has not faded at least."

"How are you doing, by the way," Hermione ignored him.

"Well, Toronto is as per usual, fucking frigid." Hermione loved how curse words slid of the Potion Master's tongue. The disdain coupled with the swear and his magnificent voice made the whole thing an exercise in vocal beauty.

"Come on now, Severus, you've been there since we finished my apprenticeship. If you hated it that much you would have left!"

"You seem to know very little of my ability to withstand horrible torture for someone who lived through the last war."

Hermions tsk-ed and felt her mood lighten. Banter, bickering, and companionship, those were what she needed to lift her spirits. Had you told her at the end of the war that her small circle of close friends was going to gain a new member in the form of Severus Snape, she probably would have had you committed. But that was how it turned out, though she suspected it was due in no small part to the fact that the war's end left Severus with considerably less reason to be an utter bastard to everyone. Now his only excuse for being a jerk was that he seemed to like being one.

"Want to get dinner tonight? Will you still be in town?" She asked as she finished her drink.

"I suppose I could put off returning to that frozen Hell for a few more hours," he conceeded. "Did you have somewhere in mind?"

"There's this really excellent and authentic Sichuan restaurant a few blocks from my place if you are in the mood of tongue-numbingly spicy."

Oh, she knew him too well, Severus mused, but all he said was, "That would be quite acceptable."

"And you know, Severus, you're welcome to my couch if you don't want to apparate back in the middle of the night. Don't want to scare your next door neighbor again, do you?"

"We'll see," Severus replied with a small evil smile. "Grumpy old asshole deserves a fright every now and a again, in my humble opinion."

She gave him a light slap on the arm by way of rebuke, thanked him for the drink, and rejoined the conference. It was only a few more hours until she could go home and be away from all these crusty old academics again.

As Hermione settled back into her deep claw foot bathtub she swore to her herself that she was going Severus' route from now on. No conferences, just papers. She could handle papers. But a bath and a dinner of hotpot with Severus would probably have her in the mindset that she could handle conferences again by morning.

Her head was underwater when a rapping noise came from her living room. Startled, she sprang from the bath, and swaddled in a fluffy bathrobe armed with her wand she snuck into the living room. An owl was sitting innocently on her windowsill and she sighed heavily as she lowered her wand. One bath ruined and all because she had jumpy reflexes left over from the war. Just a stupid owl! Hermione traipsed over the window and relieved the owl of it's burden, it didn't stop for a treat or tip but immediately flew off. Strange, she thought. She didn't recognize it and most non-personal delivery owls wanted payment.

There was an hour before Severus was due to turn up so Hermione flopped down on her sofa in nothing but her bathrobe to read the letter that had gotten her out of the bath. The couch was large and overstuffed, reminiscent in style to the ones held by the Hogwarts common rooms, though hers was definitely not in the gaudy Gryffindor colors, but a nice soothing cream. In any normal New York apartment it would have been the only piece of furniture she'd have been able to fit in, but magic definitely had it's upsides when it came to urban planning, her flat was four times the size of her next door neighbor's.

The Ministry seal on the front of the letter made her frown, she had officially taken up residence in New York over a year ago, well as officially as you could as a witch or wizard whose communities rarely had regulations for that sort of thing, and she had not had a stitch of mail from the Ministry since then. Must be something important, if they had an owl fly all this way, she mused and tore open the envelope.

Dear Hermione Granger,

The Ministry of Magic requests that all witches and wizards who were born in the Muggle area known as the United Kingdom return on or by March 31st. At that time a very important event will be taking place, one which we need every unattached witch and wizard who is of age to attend. Attendance is mandatory and all who refuse to participate will be subject to punishment by the Ministry.

Sincerely,

Thelonius Brown, Head of the Ministry of Magic Census Committee

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><p><strong>Awww shiiiit. I have a feeling that neither Severus nor Hermione is the type to take this sort of order lying down! We'll see how they react in the next chapter! Please, if you enjoyed it or would like to add a thought, leave a review!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Unlooked For: Chapter 2**

**Disclaimer: None of these characters are owned by yours truly.**

**Notes: I've been incredibly fucking busy recently, so very little is being written (and consequently published) in any of my stories. Now that I have a handle on my schedule, I'll be trying to remedy that. This chapter is a cute little look at Hermione and Severus interacting...and boozing and cursing. I love the idea of Severus feeling close enough to act this way around Hermione, although we haven't gone into the backstory enough for it to be entirely clear why just yet. We'll get to all that, but for now, let's just let them be drunkenly adorbs. **

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><p>"This has got to be an example of the Ministry's contemptable sense of humor!" Severus Snape raged after downing his third tiny cup of baijiu, the extremely strong Chinese wine. Hermione was not much better off, little dribbles of rice wine lined the table from the bottle leading to both of their cups, neither one of them completely able to pour neatly anymore.<p>

She had managed to get dressed, barely, before Severus had appeared with a loud crack in her entrance way, a look of high dudgeon accentuating his already harsh features, bearing a letter that looked much like her own.

Hermione had not bothered to complain to him that she did indeed ward her apartment and he better explain exactly how he'd gotten past all of her attempts at protection. Instead she just looked up as she tugged on her second tall leather boot and said, "Booze."

"Food. And booze." Severus agreed. Hermione had never been so grateful as she was that day to have made friends with Severus. He had been the terror of her childhood and was very nearly the bane of her apprenticeship. But today, first at the conference and now when it felt like the heavens might tumble and leave her standing in the rubble of everything she had managed to build up since the war ended and she escaped England, he was proving to be the friend she desperately needed. To rage and drink with.

They found themselves at the Sichuan restaurant Hermione had suggested early in the day, their tempers burning as hot as the spicy, numbing hotpot broth between them. Somehow, Hermione was not entirely sure, they had made it to their second bottle of baijiu before she stopped long enough to realize what was going on.

"To be fair, if we must," Hermione said, "we don't actually know what it's about."

"My ass, we don't know what it's about! Look at who it is by, Hermione," Severus sputtered as he deftly pulled a piece of beef out of the bubbling broth with his chopsticks. As Hermione had expected, when she taught Severus how to use chopsticks a year or two previously he had quickly adopted a natural and graceful technique, nimble Potion Master's hands learning almost immediately.

His graceful hands had inspired jealousy in her heart since she first saw them at work in Potions class at Hogwarts but tonight the jealousy was especially bitter; she had been forced to abandon her chopsticks for a fork after the first bottle of baijiu and she was acutely aware of looking ridiculous.

The alcohol was making her brain reel a little and the hotpot left a trickle of sweat running down from her temples. Years of British food and the hearty if rather bland Hogwarts fare left neither Severus nor Hermione exactly prepared to handle the amount of spice in the popular dish, but perhaps precisely for that reason or due to some strong innate desire to tackle difficult problems they were both incredibly fond of indulging.

"It does not state anything explicitly." Her words slurred together slightly, but she was determined to talk herself out of the dread anticipation the letter had instilled like ice in her heart.

"Does it fucking have to?" Customers had been shooting the irate pair odd looks throughout their whole meal but now they were beginning to stare in earnest. Severus didn't seem to care, but Hermione's wine drunk mind had picked up on the fact that they had better calm down or take this to an establishment more used to drunken outbursts. And perhaps somewhere they might not be so easily overheard.

She waved a waiter over and paid for the food and drink before Severus could complain. "Come on," she tugged on his black knit jumper, staggering a little. "Let's go to Charlie's, they won't mind if we make a fuss. And they have more booze."

The brisk New York air seemed to sober Severus up just enough for him to look apologetic about his outburst at the restaurant. Charlie's was a classic dive bar, situated fortunately two doors down from Hermione's apartment building and a twenty four hour taco stand. Once they had snuggled themselves into the dark corner booth furthest from the door with a mug of beer a piece, they could begin talking in earnest.

"It's worrisome, definitely," Hermione said with a little difficulty.

"It's not worrisome, it's obvious. Merlin it's so obvious!"

"It's just asking that we show up on a certain day," Hermione was feeling very warm and tired, smooshed up next to Severus in the dark booth.

"Don't be so obstinately oblivious, Granger," Severus bit.

"Since when do you call me Granger anymore?" Hermione asked reproachfully.

"When you're being a damn fool!"

"Hey, listen here, Sev'rus Snape," she propped herself up on one hand and waved the other in his face. A little surprisingly, he grabbed the offending hand and stared straight into her eyes, obviously struggling through his intoxication to make a serious point.

"Earlier you were just as worried, 'Mione, and you have every right to be," Hermione tried to butt in, but Severus squeezed her hand to quiet her and continued. "Look at who it was written by, the Magic Census Committee."

"There hasn't been a census since the end of the war, no one has any way of knowing just how many people died," Hermione replied.

"That would be reasonable, yeah," Severus said, still obviously not convinced. "But who is supposed to show up to this meeting?"

"Every witch or wizard born in the UK."

"Every unattached witch or wizard born in the UK."

Hermione sighed heavily and sank back, burrowing into the vinyl covered booth and Severus' side with her beer in hand. Severus was right, she'd known it since she read the letter, she just wished they were wrong.

"It's just...just...so fucking medieval," she despaired.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

They drank their beers in silence, each stewing in their own noxious thoughts. A few pathetic attempts at other topics of conversation carried them through the remainder of their drinks, through two sloppily shared tacos, and up to Hermione's apartment where Severus collapsed onto her couch and she collapsed fully clothed onto her bed. The last thing Hermione saw before she fell asleep was the foreboding Ministry letter on her nightstand and she knew there was worse to come tomorrow than merely a massive hangover.

"Granger."

Hermione groaned and buried her face one of her pillows. Unfortunately, she preferred not only a firm mattress but firmer pillows, so there wasn't much of anywhere for her face to go. She could have covered not only her eyes but her ears as well with one of the fluffy down demons Hogwarts called pillows, but no such luck in her own home.

"Hermione Granger, get out of bed this instant. I require coffee."

"You are one of the most powerful wizards presently on this whole continent and the best Potion Master in the world, do not tell me you can't brew a cup of coffee," she said into the pillow.

Severus growled the phlegmy, exhausted growl of the post-indulging hangover and Hermione heard his footsteps retreat towards the kitchen.

"Cup for me too," she turned her head and shouted after him.

"If you want a bloody cup of coffee you have to get your arse out of bed," came the indignant reply.

Seeing no way of both getting her caffeine and also remaining in bed, Hermione rolled to the left and landed with a soft thump on the floor. Step one: get out of bed. Achieved.

Step two: Stand. Maybe not just yet, she mused as her stomach protested forcefully to her attempts at righting herself. New plan, hobble to bathroom.

Ten minutes later she emerged from her bathroom, face and teeth washed, hair finger combed and reasonably tamed, carrying the second half of a bottle of Hangover Potion, brewed by non other than the grumpy bastard currently cursing in her kitchen.

"Severus," she walked up next to the older wizard and waggled the bottle in his direction. He turned and swapped the bottle in her hand for the cup of black coffee in his. They shared a quiet, small smile and each took a sip of what was in their respective hands.

"Thank you," Severus murmured. There was a tenderness in his voice that Hermione had only heard him direct at her. It was what distinguished their relationship from any of her other friendships. With Harry and Ron she could express affection easily, giving and receiving without question, but due to her tumultuous past relationship with Severus, the years of fear, suspicion, and pain, the small tokens of affection were treasured. They never showed up when others might notice and only when they shared a quiet moment together, but the depth of emotion displayed with each tiny smile made it difficult for Hermione to breathe. Not that Severus didn't smile occasionally at her, but it was generally the devious smirk he was famous for. These small, soft smiles offered a far more precious glimpse into the private man's heart and Hermione held memories of each and every appearance.

The cups of coffee were quickly finished and Severus announced that he had to take his leave. They would see each other soon enough anyway, the Ministry deadline of March 31 was only a week away.

Another small, beautiful smile before he apparated back to his home near the wizarding college he was presently teaching at in Toronto. Hermione was sad to see him go, sometimes living so far away from Wizarding Britain she felt like Severus was her only true friend. Harry and Ron rarely visited, citing family and work obligations and Luna had been living with her wife somewhere in Russia for the last year studying rare northern magical animals. As a result, Severus was the only person from her past that she had regular contact with!

But the sadness was short-lived as Hermione remembered that she had only an hour before the next talk she had planned to attend at the conference downtown. Best go make herself presentable for the miserable old academics who would no doubt take every opportunity to cluck their tongues over her bloodshot eyes and wild hair.

One day at a time, she reminded herself as the hot shower washed evidence of the previous night's excesses down the drain. One day at a time. No matter what ridiculousness the Ministry has planned, you can tackle it. You are Hermione Granger, smartest witch of your age, Golden Trio member, and former apprentice of the infamous Severus Snape...if anyone can take on the Ministry of Magic, it's you!

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><p><strong>Yeah! That's the attitude, Hermione! Well, now that you are all mentally prepped for battle, what are you going to do? Presumably Severus and Hermione both have ideas of how they are going to deal with this situation, but we'll have to wait and see what they are! Catch you next time, folks. In hopes of my characters not becoming alcoholics, hopefully the next chapter will include significantly less drinking, but I can't promise anything.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Unlooked For: Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer: I own nada.**

**Notes: Wowza...this is much longer than my chapters generally end up being. But there was just no way to end it early, so here you go! So...Hermione's issues that she presents in regards to the Marriage Law are a lot of the things that make me uncomfortable when I read these stories. They are awfully addicting though, aren't they? :) **

**Enjoy and please leave a review if you have time!**

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><p>The look on Severus' face as he strode into the Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, they only space large enough to accommodate all of the unattached witches and wizards in the country without some serious magical intervention, was something akin to murderous rage. A roiling tide of malice had washed over his features, wiping away years of sunlit strolls and considerably lowered stress levels, and leaving the face of Severus Snape these halls would recognize. The bat had returned.<p>

The week since he had left an incredibly hungover Hermione Granger in her New York City apartment and apparated, equally hungover, back to Toronto had gone all too quickly. And somewhat unfortunately, in his opinion, he had not managed to splinch himself despite attempting the ill-advised apparition across long distances while feeling incredibly out of sorts. Leaving behind a foot or even a finger in New York City and needing, naturally, plenty of time to recuperate, might have precluded him from attending this foul meeting.

He burst through the all too familiar double doors to greet a sea of faces, some former students, the occasional former colleague, and hundreds he could not recall at first glance. Who in this miserable crowd would he be paired with if the Ministry's fool's errand really was to be played out?

A small hand on his armed tugged him out of the doorway towards one of the cold stone walls. "Best put away that scowl, Severus Snape," Hermione whispered. "You're going to make your former students wet themselves."

"As well they should," Severus bit back, "Should any of them have the misfortune to be paired up with me."

He glanced down and saw Hermione holding back giggles, though her brow was still furrowed as it always was when she was presented with a problem she could not quite solve.

"I'm surprised to see you here, as a matter of fact," Severus said. "In your last owl you said you were going to boycott and seek asylum in America."

"Yes, well as I recall, you had said you were going to do the same."

"Unfortunately...well, let's just say that I've always had a predilection towards the annoying Gryffindor sense of duty." If he was not an ex-spy, a man with extraordinary powers to disguise his emotions when desired, Hermione could swear that Severus would have been blushing slightly at this admission.

Instead of replying, she simply nodded and sighed. She too had felt the guilt eating away at her the closer March 31 came. Regardless of what silliness the Ministry was up to, this was a country she had fought for, spilled blood for, abandoned her parents for, and grown up painfully and too quickly for. Her personal wishes aside, she could not simply abandon it.

Neither could Severus, it seemed. And so they stood, side by side, face black with distrust and annoyance next to another, waiting.

Hermione was waiting however, not simply for the meeting to begin, but to find her opportunity. There was no way she was going to allow this charade to go forward without making it absolutely clear to the Ministry exactly what her feelings on the subject entailed!

Ten minutes after the appointed start time Minister Cavell, came in almost unnoticed through the teacher's entrance near the front of the hall and situated himself at the podium Hermione and Severus had watched Dumbledore give his start of term speech from so many times. He was a tall, wispy thin man, what little hair he still had was pale blond, and his eyes dishwater blue. All in all it looked as though one good gust of wind would take care of the instigator of their problems once and for all. Severus found himself wishing for a gale.

"Witches and wizards," the Minister's voice was still reedy and weak when magically magnified. "Please listen as I explain why you have all been gathered here today."

An immediate hush settled over the crowd, even the thickest among them knowing what was to come was of the utmost importance.

"Friends," Cavell began, spreading his hands wide in an attempt to appear magnanimous and perhaps unconsciously mirror the wizard they associated most with speeches given at that podium. "We are have begun a new era in Wizarding Britain. The Dark Lord was defeated and his forces destroyed almost five years ago, leaving us finally at peace. The past few years we have been focused on rebuilding our great society and this we have done, with great success, I believe."

The crowd was still holding it's collective breath. Severus raised an eyebrow at Hermione and she rolled her eyes in silent agreement. No "for the greater good" argument was going to sway their opinions, that was for certain!

"Now we have reached a point, I believe, to begin reconstruction of another sort," the Minister continued. "Families were decimated during the last war, children lost, parents lost, families ripped apart. It is up to us to begin healing. To that end the Ministry has asked you all to assemble here today. You are the future of our community, you unmarried witches and wizards. Together we will rebuild!"

Hermione felt a disgusted shiver race up her spine. So it was exactly what she and Severus had predicted over baijiu and beer a week ago. Taking a deep breath she centered herself. She was a member of the Golden Trio, a war hero, and honestly one of the few people who could interrupt an official Ministry meeting without repercussions. Now, if ever, was the time to take advantage of that and she was going to have to hope that her anger would carry her through the speech she had planned out before she fainted or lost her nerve.

"Minister Cavell," Hermione shouted loudly from the back of the room. The thin man's neck snapped wildly around trying to pinpoint the culprit.

Hermione began walking towards the front of the room, leaving a gaping Severus Snape behind her. As she neared the front of the hall the Minister caught sight of her and a look a recognition and simultaneous fear crept over his face.

"Miss Granger," he said, attempting to sound pleasant, "let's do talk after this meeting has finished."

"No, Minister, I think now is the appropriate time to have this discussion as it involves everyone in this room." Hermione shot back. Oh Merlin, she felt her stage fright plucking insistently at her stomach, making it roil and roll. Best get this over with!

"What you are suggesting is, is it not, that we are to be married against our wills and forced to procreate?"

The Minister shuffled awkwardly as all eyes turned from Hermione back to him. "We are rebuilding the wizarding community, Miss Granger. Our families were devastated..."

"You mean that our numbers were devastated and therefor your tax base has also been devastated, is that not so?" She shot back quickly. "This foul edict will no doubt lead to increased numbers of witches and wizards, but through what means? If we are to be married against our wills to people we do not choose and forced to procreate, what does that mean? In it's strictest sense, this law is increasing the population by means of state sanctioned rape!"

"Miss Granger!" The Minister was openly gaping and obviously completely at a loss as to how he was supposed to regain control the situation. By this point grumbles were spreading across the wide room and the air was thick with resentment.

"Miss Granger," Cavell tried once more, "when you say married against your will..."

"Are we then allowed to choose our partners?" Hermione interrupted.

"Well, not as such..." the grumbles launched into the realm of roars at this and the Minister scrambled to explain. "Everyone will be administered a test to determine their best match!"

Hermione snorted. It was undignified, but at this point she didn't care. If she still hadn't fainted, that was all that mattered. "And what of procreation?"

"Really, that is such a cold word, Miss Granger. We will be having more _children_."

"Children we may or may not want with partners we do not get to choose!"

Cavell's face had long since turned bright, angry red and his eyes were growing increasingly frenzied. At this he simply threw his hands up in the air, his prepared script sent flying. "Yes, Miss Granger. You have pretty much summed it up. Congradulations!"

"What is to happen to those of us who refuse," Hermione shouted back, this was really the answer she was desperate to have. The meeting had been mandatory, but what would they do to the contentious objectors?

"Your wands will be taken away, Miss Granger," the Minister hissed back furiously. "And you will be banished from the Wizarding world!"

Quiet settled back over the crowd, uncomfortable and nervous. Severus, sensing that Hermione had known she could not actually change the edict but simply had set out to reveal it for the ugly piece of legislation it was, hurried up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Bloody Gryffindor, fighting through her fear of public speaking to trounce the Minister of Magic in front of nearly three hundred people. Even more disgusting than the brash Gryffindor display was how proud he felt at his former apprentice's actions and for that he put aside his pride and comforted her.

Hermione looked up at him, her warm brown eyes caught between gratitude and terror. He sighed and began pulling her back towards the main doors.

"You will be present tomorrow at nine in the morning to take the compatibility test and receive your results," the Minister screamed after their retreating backs but neither Hermione nor Severus turned around to acknowledge it. The other single witches and wizards stared at their retreating backs, many feeling cold shivers at the formidable combination of fiery Gryffindor determination and the Potion Master's icy Slytherin enmity.

Though they had each half-heartedly offered to spend the evening together, once again drowing their sorrows, each was perceptive enough to see clearly that what both desperately needed was some time alone to sort out their feelings. Hermione left Severus at the top of the stairwell down to the dungeons he had inhabited for so many years and she wandered off in the direction of the library.

The who could, had been sent home for a special break that week so that the Ministry could utilize the whole of Hogwarts. Each witch and wizard was going to be housed in their old dormitories that night, but Hermione felt little desire to sleep. Instead, she headed for the one safe space she had in Hogwarts; the towering shelves of books ensconced her in a warm safe bubble, it was the one place she could always relax. Not that she hadn't had stressful times in the library, there were certainly some long nights before tests that had her pulling her bushy hair out handful over handful. On a whole though, being surrounded by so much logic, knowledge, and lore passed down from ages passed was reassuring.

Sunrise can much too soon, the light pouring in through the tall windows and cutting across the book on Chinese herbal medicine that Hermione had picked out around one o'clock and had been wading through since. She groaned loudly as she tried to raise her head away from the pages, tried being the operative word. Hermione was used to finding her neck too stiff to move after hours bent over a book and she knew it would take a few minutes of soft massage to relax the muscles.

Compared to the overnight hours, the few hours before they were commanded to appear once more in the Great Hall seemed to take forever. Hermione spent most of it putzing around in the bathroom, taking a long hot bath and brushing her teeth slowly and methodically. Eventually, however, there was nothing else she could do, the clock was showing ten till nine and even the enchanted mirror had asked her why she was spending so much time in front of it.

Severus was not in the Hall when Hermione arrived at exactly nine o'clock. She felt a sick dread sweep through her, what if he had absconded during the night? Why wouldn't he tell her? They could break with the Ministry together! Now that she was here there was no way she could leave...he wouldn't really abandon her, would he?

She sat unsteadily at one of the hundreds of small wooden desks in the hall, feeling just like she had during her O.W.L.'s. There was a blank piece of parchment on the desk and a quill next to it. Hermione sighed. Even if Severus had run away, there was no way she could now. She would get through this like everything in life, head on and determined.

"Everyone please sit down," the voice of a Ministry official boomed out through the hall and everyone who was not already seated shuffled to a seat. Hermione noticed that everyone was giving her a wide berth, no one sat on either her immediate right or left. She assumed that their agreement with her argument did not extend to wanting to associated with her.

"Once you pick up your quill, the parchment in front of you will begin supplying you with questions..."

The doors banged open and everyone's heads whipped around. Hermione's heart rose slightly as she saw Severus in full angry bat mode sweeping into the Great Hall. Wordlessly he took the seat on Hermione's left.

The official cleared their throat uncomfortably then continued a little uncertainly, "It is quite important that you answer these questions honestly as they will be used to assign you a partner. Once you are finished the parchment will disappear and half an hour after the last person has finished we will provide the results."

Hundreds of hands reluctantly picked up hundreds of quills and glanced down at their papers, Severus in particular was scowling down at his with such a harsh look Hermione was surprised it didn't burn away to ash.

Glancing down at her's, Hermione just saw the word, "Name." Simple enough to start, she thought.

_Hermione Jane Granger_

"What age of partner would you like to be paired with?"

_I don't suppose it matters very much, wizards and witches have exceptionally long lives after all and..._

The parchment actually cut her off with a curt, "Please answer the question as directly as possible." Hermione gasped a little and looked over towards Severus who was sending absolutely murderous glares towards his paper. He too, it seemed, had been called out on a lack of brevity and was none to pleased.

The questions ranged from asking Hermione's favorite colors, aqua and gold, to what she appreciated most in a partner, to embarrassing questions about her sexual preferences. When the parchment got to those questions Hermione's cheeks flamed bright red and she didn't dare look over at the man next to her. Incredibly thorough, that's for sure, she though in annoyance.

Severus had been the first person to finish their questionnaire and Hermione finished quite soon after, finding this was the one test in her life she didn't feel like wasting immense amounts of time on. Those finished with the test milled about the hallways, talking quietly in groups of old housemates or standing morosely by themselves. Severus was nowhere to be found and so Hermione found herself caught up in conversation with Padma Patil who had dedicated her life to taking care of her aging parents since graduation and was now facing the prospect of having to take on a husband as well. Needless to say, it was not a particularly cheerful reunion.

Hermione was almost glad when they were signaled to return to the hall, she felt sorry for Padma, but she was sorrowful enough about her prospects to loan some of her bad mood to every person present. They gathered back up in the Hall for what seemed like the millionth time, every face solemn and apprehensive.

"You will come forward when you feel the hand you write with get warm. When you get to the front, you will see the person you have been paired with." The instructions came from an unseen person in the front, coming down like orders from God.

Hermione gasped quietly, the quills they had been assigned must have had an incantation placed over them, marking the person who wielded it without their knowledge. Just when you thought the Ministry couldn't handle this situation any more creepily!

Slowly people began leaving the hall, Hermione watched a somewhat relieved Padma leave with Neville Longbottom. He had always been sweet and he definitely matured well since Hermione last saw him; she was happy for them both but as each pair walked by with a person she would have at least been alright with being assigned the knot in her stomach got tighter.

There were only about twenty people in the hall when Hermione felt her right palm warm spontaneously. She gulped. Merlin. It was now.

Slowly she walked towards the front of the hall, not looking around until she had reached the very front. But there was no one there! Feeling idiotic, Hermione twirled around to see if the person was standing behind her, but saw no one. A tad more helplessly than she would have liked, Hermione looked up at the Ministry official presiding over the activity, but found they looked just as confused as she did.

Suddenly, Hermione felt a large hand grasp just above her elbow. "Well, let's not wait around for me to drop dead of boredom," a familiar voice hissed sardonically into her ear.

"Wait..." Hermione spun around again. "Severus, what are you...?"

"I should have thought that incredibly clear," the older man replied, his tone icy and his voice never reached above a whisper. "We are to be married, you and I."

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><p><strong>And then the plot began! Hooray! See y'all next time!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Unexpected: Chapter 4**

**Notes: I own none of the characters, settings, etc. (Nothing you can sue me for, basically!)**

**Apologies: I've been away a _really_ long time. I've not been up to writing for a number of reasons, but I'm holed up at home with back pain for a while so why not? Figured I've take a crack at it again, but please go easy if any of it is a bit off. I might not remember exactly where I was planning to take this story, but I think it's pretty much correct.**

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><p>Severus had not seen Hermione for a full week and his truculent, childish inner voice was prodding him to keep it that way. Holed up in his childhood home, dust still coating every surface he had not touched in the past seven days, he pouted and slouched, bitched and moaned, bottle in hand. Not a soul had been in the ugly old house since the end of the war, since he, Hermione, and several others who had featured prominently in the "heroics" had expatriated elsewhere.<p>

Hermione...

The older man sighed. Logic had been creeping in on his steady, comfortable self-pity regimen slowly but surely. Logically, he couldn't stay holed up in his home forever. Logically, he couldn't continue drinking and taking no action. Logically, in fact, he should be fucking exuberant that the Ministry had chosen Hermione to marry him. She was one of the few people left alive that he knew he got along with, they could hold academic conversations as well as entertaining plebeian ones, and she was decidedly attractive, albeit far too young for him.

But he just couldn't be happy about it. It was such an invasion, ripping away at his privacy and the shreds of self-determination he had pieced back together after twenty years of being under the intense scrutiny and constant orders of Dumbledore and the Dark Lord.

_Still_, the annoying logical part of his mind which Severus was considering forcibly removing, _you can't stay here forever, old man. Hermione is, no doubt, absolutely furious..._

_Oh, all the more reason to stay at home and drink!_ Severus shuddered at the thought. He could picture her storming up and down the halls of wherever she had chosen to take up residence back home in Britain, hair streaming behind like licks of fire and a furious rage furrowing her brows. No indeed, there was certainly no way he was going to face that!

Hermione was in point of fact, furrowing her brow furiously at that moment, halfway across the country. She was still residing at Hogwarts, Headmistress McGonagal had been kind enough to lend her a spare set of teacher's rooms until, as she so curtly put it, "That idiotic man gets his thoughts sorted and comes out of hiding."

She was not, however, storming down the hallway in a fiery rage, but buried shoulders deep in a sizable tome. To anyone who knew Hermione or even knew remotely of her, this would not have caused much shock. Nor would they have been shocked to find, considering the circumstances of a week prior, what exactly she was researching so intently.

Piles of books on Wizarding law surrounded her chair, some laying open and some heavily bookmarked. The one currently up for review was entitled, "Wizengamot Rulings from 1479-1499: A Brief Synopsis". The table held what looked like the unfinished draft of "Wizengamot Rulings from 1499-1519", but it was in point of fact simply Hermione's notes. Extensive notes in minute handwriting, maximizing page space, were her specialties.

Hermione Granger had a plan. She was going to go nose to nose, toe to toe with the Ministry.

And this battle would begin being waged just as soon as Severus stopped being a big baby, which was starting to look like an exceedingly long time hence. The Golden Girl knew she would need backup to go into this fight and who better than one of the most intelligent and sharpest people she'd ever met? And the person who was technically her betrothed as well? Such a show of solidarity would certainly make an impact. Now she just had to figure out where in Merlin's gargantuan pants Severus actually was!

"Hermione, dear?" A disembodied voice jolted Hermione out of her studies. Minerva's head floated in the grate to Hermione's left looking at the former student with a look of sincere concern.

"Headmistress!"

"We would very much like it if you joined us in the Great Hall for dinner, Hermione. There's always a place for you up at the Head Table while you are staying here."

Hermione blushed. She must have caused some concern during the past week, rarely leaving her rooms except to grab new books from the library and having house elves deliver trays of food to her instead of eating with the crowds of newly returned students. When was the last time she'd seen Minerva this week? It was no wonder her former Head of House was looking at her like she expected Hermione to faint dead away from hunger.

"Yes, yes of course," Hermione stammered. "Um...when exactly would dinner be?"

"In ten minutes." Came the reply, tinged with Minerva's customary tartness.

"Ah."

"I expect to see you present, Hermione."

"Yes, Headmistress. I'll head up."

Minerva nodded, satisfied, and the floating head disappeared from Hermione's fire. A heavy sigh and the tome was settled down on top of one of the large piles. The young woman stretched the long and slightly painful stretch of the researcher and then she hopped lightly over the piles of books to a patch of clear floor. She hadn't set foot outside of the room all day so, first things first...where were her shoes?

Dinner was a quiet affair for Hermione. The members of Hogwarts' teaching staff seemed to take her generally unkempt appearance as a sign that conversation should be avoided with her. Many, of those who knew her less well, even shot a few perturbed glances at her much the way rich travelers notice bums begging on the streets of metropolitan cities. Hermione, wrapped up in thought, minded the sideways glances about as much as she paid attention to the mashed potatoes and salad she shoveled into her mouth. Minerva managed to wrangle a promise out of her to show up to breakfast the next morning and Hermione found her way back to her rooms, glad that her excursion into the general public was over for a few hours.

Breakfast went much the same, though Hermione took a few minutes to magically detangle her hair before the meal which vastly increased the amount of polite conversation she had to put up with. Perhaps there were positives to looking like a wild little changeling, at least you could avoid ridiculous small talk about fourth years attitudes and what-is-this-generation-coming-too's. It was the time immediately after breakfast was cleared away, when the owl deliveries arrived, which finally broke the routine of study, eat, sleep that Hermione had found herself in.

In amongst the scramble of owl wings, tawny, brown, gold, and white an enormous splotch of black appeared. The giant raven settled itself directly in front of Hermione, a tiny scrap of parchment tied with green ribbon around it's leg.

"Hello there, Alistair," Hermione cooed as she untied the note. The raven cocked it's head to one side then dipped down to hunt for leftover tidbits. Jaws around the hall had hit the floor in response to the unusual messenger bird, but Hermione could care less. Alistair meant Severus was interested in communicating with her. Which meant that just possibly she could finally set this plan in motion.

Severus' distinctive spidery scrawl broke the blank whiteness of the parchment with just a few words: _Tonight, 8:30, The Leaky Cauldron. _

Every few minutes one of the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron would look over toward the man huddled in the shadowiest booth of the pub and wonder to themselves whether or not he looked familiar. Some of the more aware and potentially more sober folks even went so far as to wonder whether that man was the bane of their school years at Hogwarts. But sooner or later they would be drawn away from their speculation and back into their pints by a friendly slap on the back from their drinking buddies.

Where the devil was that girl? Severus groused into his own pint, mostly finished off by now. The rational part of his brain said that Hermione was probably giving him a little Hell in return for being missing in action for a week and that forcing him to sit alone in a pub for half an hour was, honestly, exacting very mild revenge. But he was getting uncomfortable with the drunken unknowing stares of his former pupils and the weight on his mind about the reason for this meeting was making him grumpy. Well, grumpier. He was always grumpy.

His hypothesis was proven when, exactly at nine o'clock, a very put together looking Hermione Granger stalked into the bar and settled herself prissily opposite him.

"So sorry I was late, Severus," she said, full lips tinted with classic red lipstick, "but, you know, I just have such a hard time tackling problems like the little situation we are in head on."

Severus was not so distracted by watching those gorgeous red lips move that he didn't notice the jab. "I would hardly call this situation "little", Hermione. But for a Gryffindor, I'm not really surprised you hadn't noticed the sheer deepness of the shit we are in. You never have been an observant bunch."

Hermione couldn't help but smirk. "Oh Severus, I was worried sick," she admitted. "Where the ever living fuck have you been?"

"Thinking," Severus said with a sigh, leaning back into the wooden booth.

"You mean drinking," Hermione corrected.

"Well one leads to the other, generally."

"Oh?"

"Indeed. If one is thinking properly it will generally lead to conclusions that make one wish to drink. And then, when you wake up in the morning, it's good to have another stiff drink to facilitate getting your mind in proper working order again."

"I believe, Severus," Hermione said with a raised eyebrow, "That you are the poster-child for alcoholism. Or philosophy."

"Once again, the two generally coexist, do they not?"

The young woman leaned forward earnestly, "Honestly though, I think I've found a solution to our problem, Severus. And I'll need you alert."

She certainly had got dolled up to saunter in and put him in his place, Severus noticed. The lipstick was one thing, but the low cut dress which was all too effortlessly emphasized when Hermione leaned forward was another. He needed to get her angrier more often. Scratch that, he wasn't supposed to be interested in his future bride! In fact, if he could start using the brain nestled in his skull and not the one between his hipbones, he may have just noticed she mentioned an escape plan!

"Unfortunately, I cannot see a way around our being wed," she said blushing. "But..."

"What do you mean? I thought the whole idea was to get out of this!" Severus cut in.

"Well, the wedding date set by the Ministry is so close I can't hope to get things sorted by then. Bureaucracy and all that."

Instead of replying Severus simply raised a very unimpressed eyebrow. Hermione coughed and straightened up. Proper posture had always helped her feel prepared, especially when butting heads with Severus, whether it was over some technicality in their research or which wine went best with their dinners out.

"But I do seem to have found some legal battles fought over the past centuries which go directly against what the Ministry is trying to do right now. And since Wizengamot rulings can be universalized across similar cases, I think we have a fair chance of convincing them that this Ministry plan is not only illegal, but that all marriages under it need to be dissolved if the partners wish it."

They sat in silence for a moment as Severus mulled that over and Hermione tried not to fidget. This was as bad as when Severus judged her Potions Mastery practicum. Eventually, he sighed again and leaned forward, propping his elbows up on the beer sticky surface of the table between them. A good thing, Hermione almost smiled, leaning forward was usually a sign Severus was ready to engage with her.

"You'll have to show me all of your research and then we can sit down and work out a plan of attack," Severus said quietly.

Hermione beamed and the man across from her tried desperately not to notice that she looked absolutely fetching. It was just the lipstick distracting him, he told himself forcefully. Just the lipstick.

"I'm glad, Severus." An all too Gryffindor look of gleaming sincerity lit up her eyes, "If I was going to go through this with anyone, I'm grateful it's you."

The dark man just grunted in reply, but the ghost of one of his just-for-Hermione patented smiles flit over his lips.

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><p><strong>Okie dokie folks, let's get back into the swing of this. Left this whole endeavor alone for far too long and I hope I can force myself back into the habit of writing weekly! Till next time, dearies!<strong>


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